Moving On
by Oceanic Others Freak
Summary: AU. One-shot. On the eve of Kurt and Blaine's wedding, the unthinkable happens, and Blaine sinks into a deep depression. Can Rachel of all people convince him to actually start living his life again? Warning: Character Death. Slash. Klaine.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

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><p><strong>Title: Moving On<br>****Summary: AU. One-shot. On the eve of Kurt and Blaine's wedding, the unthinkable happens, and Blaine sinks into a deep depression. Can Rachel of all people convince him to actually start living his life again? Warning: Character Death. Slash. Klaine.  
><strong>**Genre: Tragedy/Romance  
><strong>**Pairing: Klaine, mentions of Finchel  
><strong>**Rating: T****  
><strong>**Spoilers: none.**

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><p>Blaine didn't believe it. He didn't think he ever would.<p>

Not even when he got the call from Finn.

It just couldn't have happened.

Not to him...no damn way.

He leaned back on the couch, clutching one of the rediculous throw pillows to his chest.

His mind was blank. Doctors would have said he'd gone into shock.

He wasn't. In denial, sure - but not shock.

The phone fell from his lap, and Finn's questions went unanswered. He leaned to the side, curling into a ball. Hot tears made their way down his cheeks, but he didn't bother wiping them away.

_Kurt._

His arms went slack, and the pillow he'd been clutching so desperately fell limply to the floor.

This couldn't be happening.

They were supposed to be getting married tomorrow.

But Kurt...he was _gone._

Whatever denial he'd been in, it was gone, replaced by undeniable, utter anguish.

He wanted to scream.

Instead, he cried. He sobbed so hard that he physically ached. His stomach turned, and he bolted for the kitchen (he knew he wouldn't last long enough to run for the bathroom), and lurched over the sink, emptying the contents of his stomach down the drain.

_No. No, no, no..._

A hit and run. Was Finn serious? Kurt didn't walk places unless he needed to. He knew to watch for the idiot drivers.

It had to be something worse. _Had to be._

But there was more - Finn had been with him, had tried to ensure that his step-brother was safe. Burt, Carole, Finn and Rachel had flown into New York for the impending ceremony. Kurt had insisted on walking down to a nearby cafe with him, to catch up.

Now, more than three hours later, he was calling Blaine with the news.

And Blaine hated him for it.

He should have been called the minute it happened, the minute the paramedics got there.

It should have been _him_.

He hated himself for thinking that Finn should be dead and Kurt alive. He knew Kurt would have hated him for that too...but he didn't care.

Another wave of nausea wracked his stomach and he vomited once more into the sink.

The doorbell rang as he ran the hot water, and poured some soap into the sink to flush out the mess and the smell.

He wiped his mouth on a paper towel and tossed it into the trash can before going to answer it.

It was Rachel. She looked like she'd been crying hard.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

It took all of his will to say yes.

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><p>"I hate these pillows." Rachel's fingers trembled as they brushed against the pillow that Blaine had been clutching earlier. "I still don't know why he bought them."<p>

She picked it up and gently placed it on the couch.

"It was the only design we could agree on." he croaked. "and he didn't want the set to clash with the wallpaper."

The two sat cautiously on the couch, leaving a huge gap between them.

"Why haven't you answered Finn's calls?" she asked.

Blaine flinched.

"Kurt's gone." he whispered. "He's dead, Rachel, and anything your husband says won't bring him back."

Rachel reached over and touched his hand.

"Finn tried calling you the minute it happened." she said. "He couldn't get any reception, and Kurt - he said he was -" she choked back a sob. "He kept trying, and when he - " she wiped her eyes. "He tried to save him. He called the paramedics. It was too late."

"I love him." Blaine felt her grip on his hand tighten as he said it. "Rachel - he was - we were getting married tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know." she said softly. "He called me last night, he wanted to know if he could get dressed at our hotel room, because there was, and I quote, 'no way in hell I'm letting Blaine see me in my tux before Dad walks me down the aisle.'"

Blaine laughed. Wow, that felt weird.

"Burt and Carole want you to come by the hotel." she said softly. "They said you shouldn't stay here right now."

He shook his head. No, no way he could leave...he had so much to do, make arrangements, people to call...the morgue...Oh God, he didn't know how he was going to handle seeing his fiance's body like that.

Rachel seemed to understand.

"We'll help you." she said quietly. "I have rehearsals on Friday, but I can call them and ask Lydia to step in."

Lydia was Rachel's understudy in the play she was performing in next week. Blaine couldn't be bothered to remember the name.

"Doesn't sound like you, giving up your lead role." he said quietly.

She didn't respond right away.

"Kurt's more important." she said finally. "Do you want to come back to the hotel with me?"

"No." the answer was flat and hollow.

He slept curled up on the guest bed that night, curled up under an old afgan his mother had bought him.

Rachel slept on the couch.

Sure Blaine knew he was being rude and should have offered her the bed while _he _slept on the couch, but he couldn't have cared less at that moment.

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><p>He barely made it through identifying Kurt's body at the morgue (Burt had gone with him) the next day. It had been hard enough to watch the man who had been his father-in-law-to-be nearly crumple over the table that Kurt's body rested on.<p>

Burt held him when he broke down after briefly brushing his fingers through the dead man's brown locks, no longer styled to perfection, across one smooth, porcelain colored cheek.

"This can't be real." he sobbed. "This is a nightmare. I want to wake up. I need -"

Burt took him back to the hotel after that. It took both Carole and Rachel to get him to swallow a couple sleeping pills.

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><p>Days passed. He attended the funeral...(another fantastic display of him breaking completely down...just freaking fantastic). He hadn't been able to watch them lower the casket in the ground.<p>

He felt ashamed for it, but as soon as the service was done, he'd pelted for his car and drove straight back to the appartment. He called into work and told them he wouldn't be in for a few days.

He couldn't leave the appartment. There was no point.

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><p>"I don't want to go to a movie."<p>

"We're not going to a movie, Blaine Warbler -"

"Don't call me that."

Rachel continued as if she hadn't heard him.

"- we're going for a walk in Central Park, and then out to dinner with some friends."

Blaine sighed and allowed her to drag him down the sidewalk, toward the park. He was surprised when they met up with Finn.

"Hey." said Finn uncomfortably.

Blaine shot Rachel an accusing look. She threw up both hands in a sign of defense.

"Don't give me that look, you two needed to talk months ago." she snapped. "and don't blame Finn for what happened to Kurt, or for the way you're living your freaking life."

"Excuse me?" Blaine scowled.

"I didn't know he'd get hurt." said Finn. He looked ready to cry. "You've gotta know that, man. I tried to save him."

"I know you did." the shorter man snapped.

He took note of Finn's stance: defenseless, defeated...whatever you wanted to call it.

He tried to lighten his tone.

"I know you did, Finn. " he said. "Rachel told me. I was too upset -"

"You had every right to be." Finn shrugged.

"So? I hate to say it, but..." Blaine hesitated. Rachel was glaring at him. He wasn't getting out of this. Crap. "...I blamed you."

"Dude, I was there. I blamed myself too. I still do."

Blaine was silent for a moment. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and stared at the concrete for a moment or two.

"Don't."

Finn just stared at him.

Blaine didn't know what else to say. He turned and walked back toward his car.

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><p>The next day, he was at the cemetery. He stared blankly at the gravestone in front of him.<p>

_Kurt Elizabeth Hummel  
>April 10, 1994 - March 19, 2021<br>Beloved Son, Friend, Fiance_

"I don't know why I came here today." he said softly. "I guess it's 'cause I miss you...sometimes so much that it hurts." he sighed. "but - y-you're not coming back. I wish that wasn't true, but it is. I know you probably hate me for acting like this, Kurt, but I can't help it. I love you so, so freaking much."

"He didn't want you to stop living because of him."

He turned to see Rachel. She was wearing an old, argyle sweater (Was that some testament to Kurt? He knew how much Kurt had hated the fact that Rachel had been challenged when it came to fashion throughout high school) and a plain, blue skirt.

"Yeah. I know." he sucked in a harsh breath. "I'm gonna sell the appartment."

Her eyes widened.

"Really?"

He nodded and touched the stone, fingers lightly skimming over the smooth surface.

"Too painful to live there. Burt and Carole packed up most of his things after the funeral. I'm going back to Ohio...heard there's a really good job at Dalton - English teacher...and the Headmaster also needs someone to finally sit in on Warbler meetings. Took them long enough."

Rachel laughed.

"Well that's good, you guys were a little wild, or so Kurt said." she teased.

He laughed.

"Excuse me, we were perfectly mannered private school boys!"

"_Sure _you were." she laughed again, and extended her hand. "Come on. Lunch - Mine and Finn's treat."

Her hand was warm as his closed around it.

"Rachel?"

She glanced at him.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you...for being there for me. Maybe you're not as big of a diva as Kurt made you out to be."

She snorted.

"If ever there was a diva who could top Mercedes or myself, it was him."

He couldn't help but smile a little and nod as they left the cemetery.

**fin.**

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><p><strong>Thoughts? No flames please, guys. Constructive critcism only.<strong>


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